Guilty Obsession
by Soul's Angel
Summary: Kyle has developed quite a sick obsession with Cartman, and when he finds Cartman hiding in his closet, his secret becomes revealed. Oneshot. Kyman slash.


Author's Note: Heyy, this is Angelic Guardian. :D So, a few months ago, Soul Flash and I posted a oneshot called 'A Surprise in the Closet' in Cartman's POV, and we mentioned that we were planning on re-writing the same story in Kyle's POV. Well, here it is! We hope you guys enjoy! Reviews would make us soooooo happy (oh, God, I can't believe I just quoted Craig. XD)

Disclaimer: We don't own South Park.

* * *

I'm not trying to be pessimistic, or rude, or just a plain jerk when I say that there's someone out there who I really, really hate. And I mean hate; with a passion and everything. There's a very valid reason for me to hate this person, too. It's not like I dreamed this all up one day, oh no. He earned it all on his own. Besides, if anyone's doing the dreaming around here, it's definitely him.

I mean, me tearing off the head of... whatever it was again? Is he freaking serious? Why in the hell would I take the time out of my already busy life to go sneaking into his room just to rip off the head of one of his... favorite toys? I think that was it. Ugh. The real question here is what in the world is he still doing obsessing over things like that? Shouldn't he be more worried about his grades or something?

Oh, yeah. That's right. He doesn't care about school. Which, I guess, makes him more of an idiot. His erratic, illogical thinking will only get him so far in life before it comes back to bite him in the ass...

There's no kidding when I claim that he dreams things up. Just earlier today he walked up to me in between classes and shouted at me for no reason, claiming that I had torn off the head of his 'Clyde Frog,' and that I was going to pay for it one way or another. He swore it, and he was 'seriously.' I wouldn't be surprised in the least if he was heading over to my house right now just so he could sabotage something of mine.

Sure, none of this probably makes any sense, but this is Eric Cartman we're talking about here. When it comes to him, nothing makes sense. Of all the strange things in the world, he tops even the platypus.

And yet I still call him my friend.

I honestly have no idea _why_ I do, though. I mean, he's just so... he's such a...

He's a fucking idiot is what he is.

I hate him so much. I really do. He makes my life a living hell for absolutely _no_ reason at all. I swear, I've literally never done _anything_ to him that could ever make him hate me the way he does, and yet he purposely goes out of his way to piss me off and 'get even' with me for things I never even did.

Like rip the head off his stupid fucking 'Clyde Frog' doll. Seriously, what the hell is he talking about?!

Jesus, I did that _one fucking time_. And the only reason I did it in the first place was because HE GAVE ME FUCKING _AIDS!_

...

Yeah, dude. AIDS.

Well, whatever, let the idiot think what he wants... I just hope he doesn't try doing something ridiculous like murdering me in my sleep in the middle of the night. Because, believe me, with a person like Eric Cartman, you can never be too sure. That's why I always have to keep my guard up whenever I'm with him.

I really don't understand why the fuck he's always out to get me... It's been like this ever since we were kids, and it's just gotten worse and worse over the years.

I don't know... Stan seems to think that the reason Cartman messes with me so much is because he secretly likes me. He even flat-out told me one day, "Dude... I think Cartman's fucking in love with you or something."

To which I responded, "Are you INSANE?!"

Seriously. _Cartman?_ Liking _me?_ That's just fucked up. Really, _really_ fucked up. He's a goddamn NAZI for fuck's sake. I'm a Jew. Last time I checked, Jews and Nazis don't exactly go together.

Besides, I highly doubt that fat son of a bitch is even capable of loving anyone other than himself. He's such an egotistical bastard. He's just... He makes me feel so...

Ugh. I don't even know. I get so fucking frustrated just thinking about him.

Each day it seems to get worse. One minute I think that there's nothing more than hate between us, and the next he goes and does something that makes me think otherwise. Maybe it's just him trying to mess with my mind since he knows that I give a lot of second chances to people (he's gotten _way_ too many from me), but he's a pretty clueless person most of the time, so maybe not. I honestly don't know what to think anymore. Things have been so crazy these past couple of months... I can't seem to get my head around things as well as I used to. Not to mention my sick new habit.

I'm not joking around; I really think I've lost my fucking mind here. It's not surprising when you think about it. Considering that I've lived in a town my whole life that's been involved in some of the craziest shit (really, nuking the imagination?!), it's not really a shocker that I'm finally starting to lose it.

Losing it as in sneaking out of class, my house, or wherever I am at different times of the day to take pictures. Pictures of (as ironic as it is) Eric Cartman.

Yes. Eric Cartman. The same guy I supposedly hate, I take pictures of. In the classroom, in the gym, in his own house. His own bathroom. Call me contradictory, but it's the truth. The cold hard truth. It's something that I hate to admit... but it's true.

And that's what makes him so frustrating; _everything_ so frustrating. I don't even understand what I'm doing half the time, but that doesn't stop me from doing it. It's like I have a secret obsession that I can't even control. My moral side keeps screaming at me to quit, but something else in me drives me to follow him around like a stalker, and it's making me want to rip my hair out.

I mean, I've known for a while that I'm gay, but nothing in me could have ever imagined that I would actually be attracted to Cartman. Eric Cartman. Even now I don't know if I _am_ attracted to him. I like to think of this whole thing as a... hobby or something that I have no desire to stop. The pictures could be useful later in blackmail or something, even though that's not my thing at all. One thing I don't do is stoop down to his level. There's no reason for me to try and get back at him; I've tried it before and it doesn't get me anywhere. Why should I waste the time and effort?

Still, I wouldn't even call it a hobby. It's more like... a sick obsession that I actually happened to develop. And for some reason I continue to carry it out. It's all so frustrating, I just.... ugh.

Well, maybe it's not all that bad. When I think of Cartman, I think of how bad of a person he is; how the only things he's ever done for me are unfathomable and unforgivable. But when I can imagine him outside of that realm... I guess he's really not all that bad. He's just another guy who has problems like the rest of us. And when I look at his physique, I almost find a new respect for him. Asshole or not, he's good looking, and if he wasn't such a jerk I would actually... consider him.

...But that barrier is still there! I try and try to tell myself that I should try and see the good side in everything, and that I should apply that to even Cartman, but I just can't! When I remember all of the things he's done to me, I push everything aside again and can't see him as anything good. There's no reason to try and see anything positive about him because it's so deep down in his core, and it's not like I should even waste my time trying because I'm a Jew and he's a Nazi, and we shouldn't even go together in the first place!

Wishful thinking won't get me anywhere. In fact, I shouldn't even be wishing in the first place because...

Well, it's just wrong.

Really wrong. Even for South Park.

Ahh, I'm just so sick and tired of thinking about him all the time. It's gotten to a point where he's on my mind without me even realizing it half the time, like during school when I'm taking notes, or in my room when I'm trying to study or fall asleep. I'll just be doing something, minding my own business, when he'll suddenly pop into my head for no fucking reason at all. And the only way for me to _stop_ thinking about him is if I...

Well, is if I go find him and take pictures of him without him knowing.

I _know_ it's crazy! Believe me, I know that. It's just...

Forget it. I'm so done with this right now. I really need to just take my mind off things and clear my thoughts. Maybe I'll take a shower or something now. That should help me relax. It couldn't hurt, that's for sure.

Yeah, I guess I'll do that.

I pick up my pajamas and head to the bathroom, hoping that my room won't be too cold when I return. I've left my window open for reasons I don't really remember, and I'm too lazy to go back and close it. If it's thirty degrees colder when I get back, too bad. I'll just deal with it. There's too much on my mind that I need to clear without me having to worry about a goddamned window.

Thankfully Ike is already in his room when I reach the bathroom door. I don't know why our parents still insist we share a bathroom. We're much older now; you'd think they would at least let one of us use the one farther down the hall that they keep locked all the time. Mom says it's something to do with keeping the guest bathroom (since that's what it really is) clean so that when guests come over, it won't be all grungy.

Too bad we almost never have guests over.

I sigh as I walk in and close the door. Of course, my parents have to be weird like that and force me to share a bathroom with probably the biggest hog in the world. It's stupid, but it's another thing that I have to deal with. Though it's not as bad as the biggest thing on my mind right now.

Augh! He'll never leave my thoughts, I swear! Just when I think that I've psyched myself out of thinking about him, he sneaks his way back into my mind again. Maybe I really do like...

NO. No! No no no. I have got to stop that. There's no way in hell I'm going to let myself fall for an asshole like him. It's too freaky and way too wrong. It's like oil and water; they don't mix and neither do we. We hate each other. That's the way it's supposed to be, and that's the way it'll always be.

...Though I wouldn't mind changing that.

No! Not in the way that he would then become suitable dating material. No way. It's totally different than that. I mean, I'd like to think that I've at least matured a little bit. At least enough to put things behind me, you know; to forgive and forget. Start fresh and all of that. But, augh, it's just.... when he starts something with me, he takes it so fucking far, and it just pisses me off so much! I honestly have no clue what to do. I've trusted him so many times over the years and was screwed over each time... I just don't like to think that he's matured in the least. I'm afraid he never will, either.

I turn on the shower, setting the water to get fairly hot, and step in when it's ready. The water washes over me and I sigh, choosing to stand there as I take in the heat. I can feel the muscles in my body gradually relax as the water pounds away at my back. This kinda reminds me of the times I took pictures of Cartman in his-

Fuck! What in the hell am I thinking?! My eyes snap open and I can practically feel the blush crawling against my cheeks. Am I fucking insane?! A-and what the hell, is this s-shower not working?! It's supposed to help calm me down, not freak me out and get me all excited and shit!

…

Oh my…

Double fuck.

…

NOT _THAT_ KIND OF EXCITED!

Dude! Seriously!

I shake my head vigorously back and forth, trying to shake away my thoughts in the process, but it doesn't seem to be working. Of course. Why the fuck would it? That would just be way too easy. And, unfortunately, nothing is ever that easy. Story of my fucking life.

Goddammit, I just… I _really_ need to stop thinking about that son of a bitch so much. I mean, it's not like he's even worth my thoughts anyway. And besides, I highly doubt he thinks about me as much as I think about him…

…Or maybe he does? Oh, God, I wonder if he's ever thought about-

AHHHH! No! I have to stop doing this to myself. I mean, dude, it's Cartman for god's sake. Fucking _Cartman!_

Yeah, _that's_ what I need to keep telling myself. It's fucking Eric Cartman… the selfish, racist, manipulative, psychotic… retard. God, he's _so_ fucking retarded. Everything he does is retarded. I honestly don't understand how a person like me – or anyone else, for that matter – could ever be attracted to a guy like him.

…Not, uh… not that I am, or anything like that…

Ugh, _why_ did I have to start taking those stupid fucking pictures of him in the first place?! I have a whole fucking _shoebox_ full of them! I even take the pictures out once in a while and scatter them all over my bed. I'll just stare at them for like, hours, admiring his big, strong body and that messy brown hair… I always wonder what it feels like. I bet it's soft…

And, oh my god, he's got _such_ a huge-

…

…ego…

My heartbeat suddenly speeds up in my chest. Fuck.

I reach for the shampoo bottle sitting on the shelf in front of me, uncapping the lid and squirting some of it into my hand. I set the bottle down again and then lather the shampoo into the annoying mop I call my hair. I desperately need a fucking haircut… My hair has been so untamed like this ever since I was in fucking elementary school.

Oh well. I'm probably never going to actually get one. I can't be bothered with stuff like that.

After rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I spend another few minutes washing my body and just enjoying the warm, soothing water before I turn off the shower faucet. I slide open the glass shower door, the steam from the hot water filling the bathroom as I step out. My goddamn hair is dripping wet, as usual…

I fucking hate my hair, in case you haven't noticed.

I dry myself off and start getting dressed… Wait, where the hell is my shirt? Dammit, I must've left it in my room. Well, whatever, it's not a big deal. I open the bathroom door, closing it behind me as I make my way back towards my room.

Shuffling my way in, I sigh as I look to my bed, scouting for my missing shirt. When I don't see it, I look around on the floor, whispering to myself, "Dammit, where did I put that shirt...?" It's not on the floor, either. That doesn't really surprise me, though. I try to keep my floor as clutter free as possible, since it kind of looks bad if things are scattered all over it.

I tilt my head, thinking of other places it could be. I could have sworn that I left it out on my bed. It's not like anyone would have taken it. That would just be silly. Ike's probably asleep, and my parents aren't known for stealing shirts. I guess I could check my closet, though I seriously doubt it's in there. I usually keep my night shirt in my drawer, and it's not in there, either.

Oh well. Won't hurt to check, right? I make my way over to my closet and open the door, the last thing I expect to see sitting right in plain sight.

It's... Cartman. The bane of my existence. The one person who won't get out of my fucking mind for one second, let alone my life. The one person that's caused me so many fucking problems in the past week...

I can feel the anger seep through my bones. It boils in my blood, so hot and intense that I feel as if it's going to kill me. I snarl, placing my hands on my hips as I glare down at him, though it's not really any use except for making me feel better. He's hunched over, bracing himself for some kind of blow that he's expecting from me. And boy, he is so fucking right. Though he does look scared out of his mind. Too bad. I might actually feel for him if he wasn't that same selfish asshole that constantly makes my life miserable.

"What in the hell are you doing in my closet, fatass?" I growl.

He stares up at me, his eyes blank and unfocused. I almost feel... exposed as he gazes at me, but I choose to ignore it in place of waiting for the answer that he's not giving me.

"Well?! Answer me, retard!" I bark, stomping my foot to emphasize my anger.

Probably to piss me off even more, since I know he just loves to do that, he rolls his eyes arrogantly. When he still doesn't give me an answer after several moments, I completely lose it. In a bold, swift move, I yank him up by the collar of his shirt, shaking him like a rag doll before I bring him as close to my face as I possibly can. Without being too disgusted, mind you.

"Goddammit, answer me you asshole!" I yell right in his face, probably ruining his hearing for good. Not like I care. He's kept me waiting long enough. I want an answer, _now_.

Just as I'm about to punch his lights out for continuing to stall, he takes a deep breath, lets it out, and glares at me. "Why I'm here is of no importance to you, Jew." he spits, snarling at me in what he probably thinks is an intimidating way. I'm not fazed by it, though. Ninety-nine percent of his intimidation is fake. He continues, "It just so happens I was about to leave, so if you don't mind letting go-"

"No importance?!" I explode as I shake him even more. Is he _fucking_ kidding me right now?! "I have every right to know, you son of a bitch! This is my fucking room and my fucking closet! Now tell me why you're hiding in here, and don't tell me it's because you're absolutely and totally in love with me, and came to watch me from my closet because you're about to 'come out yourself'! It's not fucking funny anymore, asshole!" I pause, quickly adding, "And it wasn't funny in the first place!"

Yeah, he knows that I'm gay. And, of course, being the immature asshole that he is, he's ripped on me for it literally every chance he's gotten. So now, I've been having to deal with the gay jokes _and_ the same bullshit Jew jokes. I don't even know which one's are more annoying.

He sighs again.

"All right," he finally says, "you _really_ wanna know why I'm here?"

Wow. Really? "Uh, YES, dumbass!" I reply, still screaming at him.

"Well, Kyle," he starts, putting his hands on top of my hands. Damn, his hands are really fucking warm...

Goddammit.

"Being the kind and generous person that I am," he continues as he pulls my hands off of him. Oh, god, I can't fucking _wait_ to hear this... "I thought I'd do you a little favor and organize your closet."

Holy fucking shit... Is he being serious? Does he honestly fucking expect me to believe that?

I stare at him blankly, deciding to ask him just that.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" I ask in a deadpan voice.

He shrugs, like it's no big deal.

"Well, yeah, Jew, why shouldn't you believe me?" he asks casually.

At that point, I feel something inside of me snap, and now I'm _really_ unable to control my anger.

"Are you FUCKING kidding me?!" I shout. "Dude... _please_ tell me you're joking."

He keeps a serious look on his face. "Oh, no, I'm seriously, Kyle," he replies calmly, although I'm sure it's all just an act. He's probably afraid that I'm going to hit him or something.

And he should be. I'm like, _this_ close to fucking punching him in the face, I swear to god.

"So," I say in a much softer tone, trying to calm down my anger, "you're telling me that you sneaked into my room, in the middle of the fucking night, and hid yourself in my closet so that you could 'clean it'?" I make quotes with my hands as I say that.

He smiles at me like he's trying to come off as innocent. I can't fucking stand it when he does this. "Exactly," he replies with a nod.

I cross my arms over my chest to show my irritation, and as I do that, I notice his gaze shifts to look at it for a moment, but then he quickly looks up at me again.

...What the hell?

Oh, right, I'm still shirtless...

Wait, he was just staring at my...

Oh, goddammit, never mind.

"You are, without a doubt, the most retarded person I have ever had the misfortune of knowing," I say in the coldest tone possible.

Seriously, how fucking stupid does he think I am? _He's_ the idiot. Not me.

He scoffs. "Well, geez, Kyle, I decide to do you a favor out of the kindness of my own heart, and-"

"Oh, please," I immediately interrupt him, "you were NOT doing me a fucking favor, fatass! You were probably searching through my closet, trying to find pictures of me to use as blackmail or something."

I mean, my god, I've known this asshole for years. I'm more than aware when he's up to something - which he normally is, like, 99 percent of the time - and he's _definitely_ up to something right now.

Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute... He was just inside my closet, the place where I keep my...

Oh. Shit.

I freeze, and I swear, my heart stops beating.

"Shit. You, uh, didn't actually, you know..." I hesitate. Oh, fuck, I'm so screwed. Maybe he _didn't_ actually see it, though. No, there's no fucking way. He definitely did. It was in an obvious spot. "You didn't actually _see_ anything in there, did you?" I ask warily.

I watch as his eyes light up. Crap. That's not a good sign at all. Ugh, I feel sick to my stomach all of a sudden.

He smirks and starts rubbing his chin, which is only making me feel even _more_ nervous. "Hmm, you know, now that you mention it, Kyle, I believe I _do_ remember seeing something.... something quite interesting..." he says in that smug, condescending way. I can't fucking stand it when he acts like this. He has the upper hand right now, and he knows it.

Then, much to my horror, he asks, "Does a... certain picture of... a certain someone ring a bell?"

I feel my heart skip a beat. FUCK. He _does_ know. I have to find a way out of this... Maybe if I just come clean right now, he won't think it's such a big deal, and he'll actually shut the fuck up for once.

"Okay, okay, look," I rush to say, "just because I have that picture of you in there doesn't mean that I actually _look_ at it or anything..."

So that's a total lie, but I don't care. I can't risk letting him know that I follow him around and take pictures of him for the sake of my own pleasure. Maybe if I give him a good enough diversion, he'll drop it altogether.

But wait a second. Something seems off about him. Now he's staring at me like I've shot him in the heart, his eyes as wide as saucers. Why, though? The only reason for him to be shocked is if he didn't actually...

…know...

...Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. Do NOT tell me I just screwed myself over here. Goddammit, I should have guessed he was lying to me! Why do I always fall for his tricks?! Whatever plan he has for me is probably running as smooth as butter right now because of my naivete!

"What... did you... say?" he says in a meek, slow voice, raising his eyebrows at me.

Fuck, I have to cover this up quick! He can't know that I do...! Do that...

"N-Nothing! Nothing!" I mentally curse myself for not coming up with a better response. Now I'm probably going to have to go through some kind of interrogation with him. Can't he just for once take my word even though it's not at all true? I mean, I know I'm being a little lying Jew here, but-

...Wait. What in the hell am I saying?! That's something he would say, not me!

Fuck.

Throwing all caution to the wind, I lunge forward and grab him, struggling to pull him out of my closet before he can discover the shoebox. It's something that's not so easy to do. Even though he's lost all of that fat that he used to carry around when he was younger and is essentially thinner, he's gained a lot of muscle that not only makes him strong, but much heavier than if he was just fat. And considering that my arms are about as strong as twigs, not to mention the same size, I don't find pulling him out an easy feat.

Annoyed, he looks up at me, pushing me off of him. "Kyle, what?!" he barks. For some reason I'd like to think that I'm seeing a tinge of pink on his cheeks, but I immediately push that thought out of my mind. I can't lie to myself; he doesn't want me. He just wants to get rid of me. I'm starting to miss the warmth that was his body against my hands, even more when he pushed me away... I mean, the contact was just so warm-

… Shit, what am I thinking now?! I don't want him, either! I know I don't! I... I-I hate him. Yeah. Y-Yeah, I... I do.

...But don't I deserve to touch him? Just for one more second?

Not knowing the reason for my motives anymore (whether it's because I really want him out of my closet, or because I really want to touch him again), I reach forward again and pull on him despite it being a losing battle for me. My fingers clutch around his shirt, and as I struggle to pull him backwards, I notice that he's now tossing all of my shoes, clothes, and other things aside. Feeling my heartbeat increase, I tug harder. It's no use, though. My stomach drops like a rock in water as he pulls out the shoebox full of pictures, grinning like a kid with candy.

"Cartman, stop it!" I bark, tugging so hard on his shirt that I think I might rip it. "Get the fuck out of there!"

He takes the lid of the box off, and I feel my head go light. Real light. I wait and brace myself for the explosive reaction I know will come from him. To my surprise, though, I'm met by nothing but silence. I blink my eyes open, a little scared to see his face.

It's not visible from my angle. All I can see from his head is the back with that soft, lush hair (it looks even softer in real life) as he's hunched over the box, sifting through the pictures shakily. I open my mouth to say something to console him or something, but shut it before I can say anything. Maybe it's best that I don't say anything to him. He's probably already so stunned, freaked out, and disgusted to discover that I have so many pictures that me saying something will only make it worse. I watch on silently, feeling more than ashamed at myself and the fact that he's looking at his own naked photo-

...Wait, _what_?!!!

My heart now leaps up uncomfortably into my throat, and on complete impulse I reach over him and snatch the picture out of his hands.

"Wow, uh... wow, how the hell did this get in here? This, uh... I-I, um..." I stammer, feeling like more of an idiot than I ever have in my life. I so knew this was a bad idea. He probably loathes me now.

I look up to see him staring right at me, his eyes completely wide and his mouth hanging open. Wow, I've never seen him look so fucking shocked like this before. He looks... kind of...

...cute...

I feel all of my blood immediately rush up to my cheeks. I cannot believe I just thought that. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

"S-Stop looking at me like that, fatass!" I manage to spit out, my face burning up even more.

His expression doesn't change, though. He just keeps staring at me like a deer caught in headlights, and after a few more seconds of awkward silence, he finally exhales and says, very quietly, "Kyle..."

I wait uneasily for him to continue. I'm expecting him to explode or something...

"What the FUCK, Kyle?!" he screams so fucking loudly that it causes me to jump in surprise.

I hold up my hands defensively. "O-Okay, dude, just calm down!" I say, as if he actually will, which I _know_ he won't. "I can explain!"

"What the hell is there for you to explain, Kyle?!" he shouts even louder this time. Goddammit, why can't he shut the fuck up?!

"Dude, stop fucking screaming!" I scream back at him. Whatever, at this point, I don't even fucking care anymore. He's just pissing me off now. "My mom's gonna hear you!"

Seriously, the _last_ fucking person I want to wake up is my mom. She can be such a bitch, especially when she's tired...

...Oh my... this son of a bitch really _is_ rubbing off on me! Goddammit!

"I don't care!" he yells angrily, but then his mood suddenly changes as he takes another deep breath. "Just answer me this, Kyle..." He pauses. Uh oh. Here we go. "How long have you been taking pictures of me?!"

I blink in shock. W-What the fuck kind of question is that?! Why does that even matter?!

"W-What?" I ask meekly.

God, this really fucking sucks. I hate him so much right now.

"You heard me!" he snaps.

I look down at the ground, too ashamed to actually look at him anymore. I reach up and sheepishly rub the back of my neck. "I-I don't know..." I mutter in a weak voice.

I can feel him staring at me, but I don't dare look up at him.

"Yes you do!" he shouts impatiently. "Just answer the goddamn question!"

Oh, no. No fucking way. I'm definitely _not_ going to give him an answer. It's way too… embarrassing. I mean, I don't remember _exactly_ when I started taking the pictures. It's not like this crazy, sick obsession just happened in one day. I gradually started taking more and more pictures of him over time.

For like… oh, fuck, how long has it been anyway? Like… a year or something…

Wow, I need help.

I continue staring at the ground. "N-No!" I protest. That's it. I'm so fucking fed up with this. "Just... get out of here, fatass!"

Another moment of that weird, awkward silence passes before he speaks again. "But... why do you want me to leave, Kyle?" he asks, a suspicious tone in his voice. "I mean, you obviously have the hots for me, so I thought-"

"_WHAT?!_" I screech, snapping my head up to look at him. Dude, what the _fuck?!_ "I do NOT have the hots for you, fatass!"

It's fucking true! I don't like him like _that_.

…

Not that, uh… what I mean is…

I don't like him _at all_.

Yeah. I fucking hate him. A lot.

He snorts, like he's ready to explode into laughter. "Right, Kyle, and _I_ totally don't have the hots for _you._"

I feel my heart stop again.

What the… dude… did I… hear that correctly?

"...What did you just say?" I ask very slowly, narrowing my eyes and smirking at him. Yes. Finally. Fucking _finally_, the tables have turned. Now _I'm_ the one with the upper hand. Fuck yes. I'm gonna enjoy this.

There's a long pause before he answers, and he can't keep the stutter out of his voice. "N-Nothing! Nothing!"

I roll me eyes at this. Why do I even bother getting mad at him anymore? I should really expect these things from him. "Nothing?" I scoff, crossing my arms. "Nothing my ass!"

For some reason that only causes him to stare at me again. Confused, I look him in the eyes to notice that they're focused... much lower than they need to be. Dammit, he's doing it again?!!! What in the fuck is wrong with him?! Since when was he such a fucking pervert-

Wait, I take that back.

Without any warning at all he starts to beat himself over the head, and hard. It's now that I ask myself what in the fuck has gotten into him because it doesn't even look like he's aware that he's doing it. Has he really gone insane or something?

"Dude?" I say, trying to catch his attention. When it doesn't work, I say it again. "Dude, chill out!"

I'm not sure why, but I'm feeling concerned for him, so I reach forward and grab his arm. I pull it back, not releasing it from my grasp because I'm concerned he'll start again. His silence actually starts to scare me a bit; I'm almost convinced that he's really beaten his brains out. I'm reassured when he starts to blush again, though, and without thinking about it I point it out to him.

"Dude, you're blushing."

Ha, he's actually... he's actually blushing! I don't get why, but he is. I mean, there's no way I'm believing that he actually likes me. He's probably just freaking out because a gay guy is holding his hand and won't let go.

"I am NOT!" he spits in my face, probably to purposefully piss me off. It doesn't work, though. I just snort and chuckle, pulling him in front of the mirror hanging on my door. Time to prove a point.

"What, don't believe me fat ass? See for yourself."

As we both look at ourselves in the mirror, I savor the rare fact that I'm the one who has him trapped in the corner. He looks on with a thoughtful stare, something that I can't deny is cute. The few times that he actually does show some form of thinking is just... really nice to see in him. It convinces me that he may in fact be human, and not the atrocious monster that I deal with on a day to day basis.

I sigh quietly and look away from the mirror for a second. Maybe I don't hate him as much as I thought I did...

Once again, he never answers to the point I've proven. I take the chance to look back at him through the mirror, a smirk growing on my face as I catch sight of his stunned face again. "Well, am I right, or am I right, fat ass?"

Considering the fact that he exactly hasn't been a chatterbox tonight, it's no surprise when he continues to stay silent. All he does is continue to stare at himself in the mirror. Soon he closes his eyes, probably because he's struggling to find a clever comeback, though it's something that won't at all happen now because he really starts to blush. Perfect. As his eyes snap open once again, he quickly turns his head to glare at me. Guess he's ready for his reality check.

I continue to smirk as I address him once more. "Go on. Tell me I'm right, fat ass."

He stares at me for a couple more seconds with that same annoyed look on his face, but then he smiles in that arrogant way and says, "I don't think so, Kyle."

I furrow my eyebrows. Oh, come on, can't he just admit that I'm right? Just this once?

"But you _just_ saw yourself in the mirror!" I harshly point out, feeling myself quickly losing patience with him again. "Come on, you know I'm right, fatass!"

I _know_ that he knows I'm right. He just doesn't want to admit it. He's so fucking stubborn like that.

He turns completely around, giving me an even fiercer look, one that I return right back at him, and the two of us just stand there, glaring at each other. God, why does he have to make everything so fucking difficult? Why can't he just-

Wait, what the hell? Why is he... looking at me like that? He looks really scared and confused all of a sudden. His eyes are all big, and his mouth is hanging open just a tiny bit...

The anger I was feeling a second ago instantly disappears. "...What?" I ask, unable to hide the concern in my voice. "What's wrong?"

I really am starting to get worried here. What the hell is up with him right now? This isn't like him at all... He's usually quick to answer with some kind of wise-ass remark. Now he's just... I don't even know what I'd call it... He's...

"I, uh..." he says quietly, but he doesn't say anything else after that.

What the fuck? Why can't he just give me a straight answer? I don't understand why he's acting so...

...nervous.

Yeah, that's what it is. He's totally nervous right now. But why, though? It's not like he's the the type of person to get nervous often. In fact, in all the years I've known him, I don't think I've _ever_ seen him look this nervous before.

Dude, this is so fucking weird...

And yet...

It's really cute, too.

Yeah. I can't deny it anymore. I absolutely love the way he looks right now. I wonder what he's even thinking about...

He just looks so... vulnerable. God, I wish I could just, like, hold onto this moment forever...

Okay, that sounded _really_ faggy. Whatever. I don't care.

He clears his throat, and that adorable, confused look on his face slowly starts to change into a much more devious one. Oh no...

"Uh, you know, Kyle..." he says very slyly, like he's got something planned, "you're blushing too."

I instantly feel my anger shoot up again. What the _hell_ is he talking about?

"What?!" I cry in disbelief. "No I'm not, fatass!"

"Yeah, you are, Kyle," he says sternly.

I can feel my anger escalating even more. Is he trying to fucking mess with me again? I mean, I would obviously know if I was blushing... which I'm not.

Well, if he is messing with me, then there's _no_ fucking way I'm going down without a fight.

"No, I'm not, Cartman," I say in an equally stern tone.

He takes a step closer to me, and I feel my heart practically jump in my chest when he does. "Yeah, you totally are," he says, a teasing smirk on his face.

...W-What the hell is he doing?! Now _I'm_ the one feeling nervous.

Goddammit, no! I can't lose my focus...

I narrow my eyes at him. "No, I'm NOT," I shout.

"YEAH, you are!"

"NO, I'M-"

I'm suddenly yanked forward, my lips crashing forcefully into his.

WHAT THE _FUCK?!!_

I freeze, my senses so fucking overwhelmed that I can barely process any of this.

So I do the only thing I can think to do. I close my eyes and start kissing him back.

How did things turn around so fast? How did I go from trying to yank Cartman out of my closet, yelling at him to leave, to kissing him full on the lips? And for that matter, actually _liking_ it? I'm not gonna lie anymore. I'm tired of lying, especially to myself. There's no doubt that I'm in fucking love with this idiot, and that I definitely don't want him to go away now. Not now, not ever.

His lips are just so warm... and soft... so much better than I had ever imagined (as much as I hate to admit that). And... I know that he's probably just doing this for the sake of humiliating me, but don't I deserve just for one second to enjoy this?

My hand reaches up to clasp around his neck, and before I can stop myself I've wrapped both of my arms around his neck. He relaxes somewhat, much to my surprise, and the kiss becomes more gentle. I savor every last second until he decides to pull away, gazing at me with those beautiful, brown eyes.

Oh my... I can't believe I just... we...

He's panting as he looks on at me, and my heart beats faster. The only thing I can focus my eyes on are his lips and the fact that I already miss them on mine. I'm contemplating pulling him back towards me, but he says something before I can do so.

"You... are now..." he breathes, a hint of a smirk on his face.

Of course. Of course he has to go and kill the fucking mood like that. I know it was really only a mood for me, but still...! I just... Goddammit, why is it him I have to love?!

"I. Can't. Fucking. Stand. You." I ground out. It's both a lie and the truth; just one more thing to prove how confused I am right now.

His smirk grows wider as he considers me. Once again he has the upper hand, and I can only imagine what he's going to do with me, taking into account the reaction I provided him with that kiss. "Really now, Kyle?" he draws my name out on his tongue and I can't help the shiver that goes up my spine. Fuck, I'm losing it, fast. If only my feelings weren't getting in the way... "Because I'd like to think otherwise, judging by how you were totally hanging on me just now. Tell me, Kyle, are you that desperate for attention, or am I just that hot?"

My anger reaches a new level as he says this. My whole body shakes with rage, and I can barely get out my next sentence. "Get. Out. Of. My. Room." I snarl, jabbing my finger in the direction of the door.

He takes a second to glance over at the door. Then he looks right back at me, tilting his head and putting on an innocent face. As cute as it is, all it does is piss me off more. "Aw, what's the matter, my dear Jew?" he reaches over and pinches my cheek. Oh, he's really pushing it now. I feel like I'm about to cry I'm so pissed. My growl causes him to draw his hand away, and he continues. "Am I... _bothering_ you? Is it too... _hot_ for you? Would a... _banana_ help to calm your nerves?"

Each question has me shaking even more, if that's possible, until his last remark undoes me for good. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEFORE I RIP YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF, YOU MORONIC, SELF-CENTERED, RACIST, INTOLERANT, MANIPULATIVE SOCIOPATH!!!"

I don't care if I wake my mom up anymore. I don't care if I wake up the whole fucking house. I don't care if my parents and Ike come running in here and find Cartman standing here teasing me because at least that'll mean he'll leave.

I am so... fucking... sick of this.

"What did I do wrong?" he coos, keeping up the innocent game.

I am so... done. So tired...

Out of the energy to shout at him anymore, I just sigh and look him straight in the eye. I don't even see why I should bother yelling at him anymore. I'm just wasting my time and effort. Besides, how can I honestly be angry with someone I love so much?

"Nothing." I say quietly, calmly walking over and sitting on my bed. "You did nothing wrong, Cartman."

That's the truth, too. He did nothing wrong at all. In fact, he did every single thing right. He's been doing every single thing right for a long time. As wrong and annoying as most of those things are, I have to admit that they just attract me to him more.

He's silent for a second before he has an outburst. "Don't fuck with me, Jew! I know what you're doing! You can't trick me! I know you better than that!"

Heh. What an amazing idiot. There he goes again, thinking I'm trying to trick him. It's too bad that he has it all wrong. I'm not trying to trick him. I have nothing to hide.

But it's more than annoying how blind he is. Can't he seriously fucking see what's going on here?!

"I'm not trying to trick you, Cartman." I sigh in annoyance, flashing my eyes at him. "Don't you fucking get it? Can't you get it through that thick skull of yours? Or do I have to piece it together for you?"

He just stares at me for a few seconds, like he's looking for something to say back. What comes out of his mouth isn't exactly genius, either. "Uh... what?"

God. DAMMIT! Why is he _so fucking stupid?!_

I immediately stand up, storm over to him, and grab him harshly by his shirt collar.

"I. Fucking. Like. You. You. Idiot!" I shout, shaking him back and forth with each word I spit in his face.

When I stop shaking him, he blinks a few times and refocuses his eyes to stare at me, a dazed look on his face. Ha.

…

Actually, that's kinda cute too...

He continues staring at me with that... that look...

Hmm, maybe I was a little _too_ harsh just now.

"What?" he quietly asks.

...

Okay, I take that back.

"ARRRRRRGH!!!" I explode, unable to control my frustration anymore.

Oh my GOD! Dude, I swear to fucking god... I am SO fucking sick of this!

My fingers clench even tighter around his shirt collar. Goddammit, is he honestly and truly this fucking blind? Or is he just making me repeat myself over and over for his own sick pleasure? Both seem very plausible... especially the latter one. He _is_ fucking weird like that...

...But damn, dude, what the hell do I have to do to get through to him? I should just pull him into me right now and fucking kiss him on the lips again... Maybe _then_ he'll finally get it through that retarded fucking head of his...

Ugh. As badly as I want to do that right now, I really need to calm myself down first. I don't want to do anything stupid....

I let out a long, deep sigh as I (reluctantly) let go of his collar. "I said," I say calmly, hesitating a bit after that. I really, really do _not_ want to admit this to him again, but I guess I have no choice. Here goes nothing...

"I fucking LIKE you, you idiot," I say loud and clear.

Now I _know_ he heard me that time. He can't be _that_ stupid...

I stare at him, waiting impatiently for him to say something. I wonder what the fuck he's even gonna say to that. If I'm being completely honest, I'm a little apprehensive to hear his reaction. I mean, he's been pretty fucking vocal throughout the years about how much he 'totally hates me'. I wouldn't be surprised if he just bursts into laughter right now.

I quickly feel myself becoming uneasy as I keep waiting for him to speak up. It's only been a few seconds, but, wow, it feels like an eternity to me. My stomach is doing flips and my heart is racing as I contemplate saying something else just to put an end to this brutal silence already, because it's seriously starting to drive me crazy.

Then, all of a sudden, Cartman's mouth drops open. It just drops, totally fucking out of the blue, and the rest of his face freezes in the most shocked facial expression I've _ever_ seen on anyone before in my entire life. Oh my god, dude...

My uneasiness almost instantly melts away as I feel a huge smile make its way across my lips. Before I can even hold myself back, a small chuckle manages to escape from my throat. Holy shit, I wish I had a camera! He looks so unbelievably adorable right now. I just can't believe this!

Wow. This is seriously amazing. Now _this_ is a face I can never forget, especially since this'll probably be the only time that he's ever truly shocked like this. So, I'm just gonna... savor this moment for a second...

All right.

Deciding to help him out, I extend out my hand, carefully place it underneath his jaw, and push it back up as gently as possible.

When I pull back, he furrows his eyebrows and blinks, the look on his face hardening. Aw, shit. It's gone now. Oh well.

...God, is he _ever_ going to say something? I mean, I can understand that it's a lot for him to take in right now, but come on. What the hell is he thinking about so hard? I just don't get it.

Wait, unless it's...

Oh, dude, I get it now. I should've known right away.

"If you still think that I'm messing with you, you're way off, fatass," I say, still somehow in that lighthearted mood as I chuckle a bit more and shake my head. I just can't get over that look on his face. It was fucking amazing.

However, the look that's forming on his face now is just about as cute as the one he had a second ago. He's blushing, too, and I can't help but smile at that. Sometimes he's just too fucking adorable for his own good.

My smile turns into a devious smirk when I realize that there's probably a reason why he has that look on his face. In fact, it's something I totally forgot that I was aiming for: catching him off guard and gaining the upper hand. And boy, do I have it now.

"I-I wasn't thinking that, y-you dumb Jew!" he manages to stutter out, something I find even more adorable about him. I love the fact that he still thinks he's going to win.

"No, you totally were." The smirk that's on my face soon disappears as I address him in a more serious tone. "Cartman, I'm serious. I'm not messing with you. What..." I pause to take in a deep breath, my eyes shifting to the ground, "What do you think the pictures are for?"

I swear to God, if he says something stupid again...

"To humiliate and demean me? Revenge and or blackmail to make up for all the times I've fucked with you?"

Oh my lord... He's so fucking-! Ah, I can't even stand it anymore! I mean, Christ! Am I seriously going to have to pull out that fucking box just to prove my point! His skull can't seriously be that thick!

When I glance back up at him, I notice the confused and almost sheepish look on his face. A growl emits from my throat, and I storm past him over to my closet, leaning over and taking the box out. I set it down angrily on my bed, sifting through the innumerable amount of pictures (blushing at some more than others) until I find the ones I'm looking for. They should be more than enough to get my point across. If they don't... well, I won't know what to do then.

"Cartman," I say sternly, flashing the pictures in front of his face, "do any of these pictures of you show anything humiliating about you that I could possibly use as blackmail? Really. Look at me with a straight face and try to tell me that I might, in the slightest chance in hell, be able to use these pictures to screw with your life."

He gives the pictures a long, hard look, his face contorting in thought as he does so. As I watch him stare in what I guess is either shock or amazement, I again take a moment to savor the expressions on his face. Seriously, he's so much better to look at in real life. There's so much more... life to him than in the photos I take.

I know that's pretty obvious, but it's just... he seems more vulnerable right now. When I take pictures of him, especially when he's out in public, he always has this facade on; it's like he's hiding his true emotions for the sake of looking cool, which totally makes sense. He's exactly the kind of person to put his appearance on the top of the list. That's why when he shows his true face, he looks so much more...

...amazing.

He finally points to a picture, saying in an unsure voice, "You could draw funny things on me here?"

I don't even bother getting mad at this; perhaps because I'm too focused on his face right now to even care. Instead I roll my eyes, pulling the pictures back away from him. "Cartman," I sigh again, "unlike you, I don't spend all of my free time thinking up new ways to fuck up people's lives. I have better things to do."

I expect a smart-ass comment when a devious grin spreads across his face. I'm not disappointed, either.

"Like get off to pictures of me?"

Again, why should I even bother getting mad? In fact, if I really think about it, it's kinda funny. I always kinda admired that about him. "Yeah," I nod my head with a sigh, "Pretty much."

This obviously throws him for a loop because he freezes like a statue, staring back at me with that same, cute face. I smile a small smile at this, reaching a hand over after a second to shake his shoulder lightly. Really, the guy needs a break.

"Cartman?" I ask, not able to keep the chuckle out of my voice, "I was just kidding." Whether it's going to reassure him or not doesn't really matter to me. I feel like I have to say it anyway because honestly, I do sort of care for him.

...Okay, scratch that. I _do_ care. I care so fucking much.

"Fuck you, Jew!" he suddenly shouts, causing me to blink. My lips turn up in a smile again as I realize how obviously he set himself up for this one:

"Heh, well, I wouldn't really mind that." I chuckle, rubbing a hand against the back of my neck. And as unsure as that gesture is, my words are anything but. I really wouldn't mind if he did that. Or at least tried because I'm sure it would be fucking funny. If he's this clueless about understanding my feelings for him, I can only imagine how clueless he is about sex.

"Goddammit, stop fucking messing with me!" he screams at me as he stomps his foot on the ground like a little kid.

"That's the thing!" I say, still with a lighthearted chuckle in my voice. "I'm not!"

I notice his face relaxes a little bit, and I take it as an opportunity to elaborate. There's no point in holding back anymore, anyway. I already told him I liked him... might as well lay it all on the line.

Who gives a fuck, right?

"I want you! I like you!" I say, allowing my heart to do the talking. "Can't you get that through your fucking head, just for one second! Forget our rivalry, our hatred for each other, and think! Fucking think! Get your fucking mind off of that me tricking you shit, and accept what I'm saying! I. Like. You."

I decide to end myself there, even though, if I'm being perfectly honest, there's still _a lot_ more stuff I want to say to him. Oh well. I'll just save it for another time, I guess. Besides, I know how much he hates my 'gay little speeches'.

He blinks several times, an unsure look on his face. "You're not... you're not lying?" he whispers so quietly that I just barely hear him.

I immediately shake my head. "No!" I reply truthfully. "I'm. Not. Lying, Cartman."

There's a long pause before he finally asks, "...What am I supposed to say to that?"

I blink, completely thrown off by that question. Huh. I never even considered that... What _is_ he supposed to say to that?

...Well, I know what I _want_ him to say, but that's not the point.

So, instead, I just give him a shrug. "I-I... I don't know. You don't have to say anything really. It's not like I'm expecting for you to like me back or anything. I mean..." I pause, thinking for a second before I decide to continue, "sometimes I wonder about this myself. Honestly, even _I'm_ not sure if I should like you or not. I know it's totally wrong, not to mention against my morals completely. You know how I am about that. And yet, I was _still_ taking those pictures because I couldn't get enough. I kept telling myself that it was weird, and creepy, and wrong, but I still kept doing it. I just couldn't help myself..."

At that point, I trail off, because I suddenly notice the look on Cartman's face. What the hell, dude? Why is he... looking at me like _that?_ He looks like he's about to pass out or something.

"Cartman?" I ask, trying to get his attention.

He stays completely frozen, though. He doesn't even acknowledge me.

"Cartman?" I ask again, a bit more sternly this time.

Dude, he's not even blinking!

"Cartman? What the hell has gotten into you?" I ask in confusion.

Goddammit, why won't he answer me?!

"Hey, Cartman?"

Ugh. Come on.

"Cartman," I say in a more demanding tone.

I'm _so_ close to losing my patience again...

"Cart-"

I'm suddenly pulled into him once again, my lips smashing against his in a passionate kiss. I instantly melt right into the kiss, and I can feel myself getting lightheaded as I kiss him back on instinct. Wow. This kiss is even better than the first one. I feel like I'm dreaming or something, but I know I'm not because I can feel my heart jumping and tumbling and doing crazy flips inside my chest, and there are hundreds of butterflies erupting in my stomach, and now Cartman's big, strong arms are slowly wrapping around my waist, and oh my fucking God, dude, it all feels so...

...perfect.

I smile against his lips, because, well... he's obviously in love with me, too.

Who would have ever guessed?


End file.
